


In Release (The Knots, Bumps and Gaps Remix)

by zarabithia



Category: Avengers (Comic), Marvel, Marvel 616
Genre: Asexuality, Established Relationship, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-29
Updated: 2011-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-18 19:19:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony and Steve share a night in, and Tony takes care of Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Release (The Knots, Bumps and Gaps Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snowynight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowynight/gifts).
  * Inspired by [In service](https://archiveofourown.org/works/132716) by [snowynight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowynight/pseuds/snowynight). 



As far back as Steve could remember, he'd always loved to draw. It had been the one indulgence that his mother had always made time for, even when the Depression had been at its worst. Steve hadn't realized that at the time; he'd know things were rough, but his child's mind hadn't fully understood how big of a sacrifice something as small as a sheet of paper was. Not until it had been too late.

He thought of his mother often, as he supposed any child might after the loss of a parent. He'd always tried to honor the lessons she'd taught him, as he'd built his life, but there were times he still ached for the ability to show it to her. Some moments brought a greater longing than others – after particularly hard-won victories, for instance.

Tonight was one such occasion, as Steve lied on the bed of the room he shared with Tony. His muscles still ached from the last mission, whether from the actual physical demands or simply the toll of the stress. The responsibilities of being Top Cop of the Nation were always draining, in a way that even being Captain America hadn't been, and they required making choices that did not always sit well with the moralities he preferred.

It wasn't the first time he'd been in such a position, of course; he'd fought in World War II and that war had been determined that no one should escape its clutches without having a through understanding of the necessity of shades of grey.

He was a soldier first, and he was committed to doing his duty. As long as the cause was one he believed in, that much was never up for debate.

But it was good to be able to come home, curl around a sheet of paper – which still required sacrifices to be purchased, if not quite the same degree that his mother had known – and sketch the form of his loved ones.

His current sketchbook was full of sketches of people he called family and friends: Sam, Bucky, Sharon, Bernie, Rachel, and various incarnations of the Avengers, both past and present. But his current sketch was devoted to the man lounging in a far more relaxed state in the chair across the room from Steve.

Tony talked animatedly on the phone, alternately to Rhodey and to Pepper, as Steve penciled in the sharp lines for his brow. Discussion ranged from company work to vacation time to Pepper's children, who Steve hadn't seen in quite some time (he made a mental note to correct that; what kind of job was Top Cop of the Nation, if he couldn't indulge in a little spoiling?)

Eventually Tony's phone conversation came to an end, just as Steve was putting the finishing touches on the shadows around the bottom of Tony's chair.

"You look exhausted," Tony said critically as he began to undress.

Steve watched Tony undress, searching for any new and worrisome scars. In his previous relationships, Steve had attempted compromise more often than he did in the present, and while that certainly had its drawbacks, it had also afforded him the opportunity to thoroughly examine his partner's naked body more often. It was easier to keep tabs that way, and easier for him to be reassured that his partner was _safe._

"It's just been a long day," Steve answered as Tony slipped into his pajamas. "Or a long week, I suppose is more accurate."

"But for now, all is quiet on the western front," Tony said cheerfully. "On second thought, just ignore that. Or ignore the way _All Quiet on the Western Front_ ends. Whichever."

Steve flipped his sketchbook shut and laughed softly. "Right now, I want to temporarily ignore everything that has happened this week."

"Mmm. Understandable. You know what would help with that? A massage."

Steve set the sketchbook on the table beside the bed and turned to look at Tony. "Tony, I know it's been a while since we last ... _compromised_ , but I'm really not in the mood tonight."

That Steve wasn't ever "in the mood" wasn't the point, and went unsaid.

"I know you aren't. I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to let me give you a massage to work out the kinks that even I can see in your muscles – which, last time I checked, wasn't in the compromise territory."

"It's not," Steve assured him. Massages were a different type of intimacy, and Steve enjoyed both giving and receiving them in way similar to the satisfaction he derived from just holding his partner.

Sometimes Steve's partners didn't really _get_ that, and Steve supposed it was difficult for people who viewed massaging and holding as foreplay or afterplay to see it as the main event, the way that Steve did.

That Tony didn't press for an explanation, beyond that first discussion years ago, despite the fact that his scientist mind pressed for questions about _everything_ , was an aspect of their relationship that Steve truly treasured.

"Well, then, get undressed and lie down so I can treat you properly," Tony instructed.

Steve hesitated only a moment before shedding his clothes and lying on his back on the bed. He watched as Tony placed and lighted the candles, an act which filled the room with a warm relaxing scent almost immediately. With the curtains drawn tightly, the candles were the only light source in the room, and that lent an air of romance that Steve's inner artist could definitely appreciate.

After lighting the candles, Tony rummaged around in the drawer on his side of the bed and produced a bottle of body oil. As Tony rubbed the oil into his hands, he stopped to look at Steve, and Steve had dated him long enough to recognize the appreciative look Tony was giving him.

"Are you sure about this?" Steve asked, watching Tony's face carefully.

"I'm sure, Steve. It's sweet of you to be so concerned about what I'm getting out of it - nobody's ever been quite as concerned as you - but you should really let me take care of you."

"Last time I'll ask. I promise."

"Last time you'll ask tonight," Tony answered good-naturedly. "Now close your eyes and try to relax. This works better that way."

Steve sighed and let out a deep breath as he closed his eyes. As the breath left his body, Tony's hands began to work on Steve's stomach. The oil was slick and cool to the touch at first, but Tony's fingers drew continual circles across Steve's abdomen, working the body oil into the skin and forcing Steve to relax as they went.

"Turn around."

Steve turned onto his stomach, giving Tony access to his back.

"So many knots," Tony murmured, in a way that might have been disapproving, had it not been for the warmth in his voice.

"Long week," Steve reminded, but he gave a pleased sigh as Tony began working on his back.

Tony was slower with his movements across Steve's back than he had been on his abdomen. Tony's fingers dug into muscle as he cajoled them to relax, and his fingers slid along Steve's spine, caressing the dips and curves with care.

Steve supposed Tony was re-cataloging every movement, re-committing every act that worked and every act that didn't. Steve wouldn't pretend to understand how that would feel for Tony, but he could show how precious the effort was. When Tony's touch was effective, Steve didn't hold back the verbal responses his body wanted to give. It was important to Steve - to them both - that Tony be able to re-memorize those sounds. His moans were not of the kind of release that Tony preferred, but they were a release, nonetheless.

In the end, when Tony's fingers had soothed away all the tension, Steve offered his gratitude. "Thanks."

"My pleasure."


End file.
